


Leave The Night On

by panicrocksxo



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Zuko (Avatar), Bull Riding, Country & Western, Drama, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Sokka (Avatar), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rodeo Competitions, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicrocksxo/pseuds/panicrocksxo
Summary: “...I can't come between you and your dreams.”“Don’t you get it? You’re my dream, too.”Sokka is a professional bull rider looking to get back on the map. Zuko is an Art History student with plans for his future in the big city. Based on the Nicholas Sparks novel “The Longest Ride”.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. prologue

_“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we are back to the final night of the Professional Bull Riders World Finals right here in beautiful Las Vegas!”_

The announcer’s voice boomed across the sold out T-Mobile Arena, reverberating in the ear drums of the thousands of fans who all looked eagerly to the dirt covered ring. 

_“This next one’s gonna be a treat folks. Sokka is young, easy on the eyes, and a magician on a bull. But it's all on the line now as he takes on an animal that needs no introduction…”_

Down in the ring, Sokka looks up to look at the commentators station, shaking his head in exasperation. With a final tug, he secures his leather gloves and makes a fist with both hands to assure a good fit. He also double checks the zipper on his riding vest and tightens the buckle on his chaps. 

The metal rails a few feet away suddenly shake ferociously as the beast in question is led into the bucking chute by a couple of cowboys. The gate behind the animal slammed shut instantly, trapping it inside a tight rectangular space. Sokka could hear the animal fighting its bonds, throwing its body against the chute with enough force to crush a car or two. 

_“This bull has had 74 consecutive buck offs, making him the bane of every bull rider's existence! Sokka’s got a doozy coming for him, but if he can make those eight seconds he will officially defend his title and, for the 5th year in a row, be the PBR World Champion!”_

“It’s time, Sokka!” 

He glanced over at his friend Haru, who was waiting beside the trembling metal chute for him. The cowboy wore a similar outfit to Sokka’s but with significantly less protective padding.

Inhaling loudly through his nose, Sokka grasps the still-quaking metal and climbs up. At the top of the fence, Sokka sees the animal. He can practically feel the heat and tension radiating off the huge, muscled body through his own layers of leather, padding, and fabric. The animal huffed angrily as it tried to shift inside the tight quarters of the chute, barely big enough to hold it. 

_“You know who I’m talking about, Las Vegas! This is Appa! And judging by the amount of rocking I see going over by the chute, he's ready to go!”_

Sokka swung his right leg carefully so he was straddling the air above Appa’s restless body, resting his weight on the metal rails on either side of the chute. By Appa’s immense head, the door to the chute was held shut by one of the rodeo clowns. Soon, it would open and Sokka would have eight seconds to prove that he was the best bull rider in the world. 

Sokka had seen enough videos of other bull riders on Appa to know that this animal was absolutely lethal. Appa was fast, strong, and had an unpredictable temperament. Too many riders left the chute underestimating the bull, only to be at the receiving end of his ultra-sharp horns or hooves with enough raw power to kill instantly. Any rider facing the animal would have to keep their wits about them in the event of being bucked. Seconds counted with Appa, and any cowboy without a plan was as good as dead. 

But Appa didn't know Sokka. Appa didn't know that this moment was something Sokka had dreamed off since he was three years old and witnessed his first rodeo. This ride was the culmination of years of literal blood, sweat, and tears. This is the moment Sokka would beat his father’s Championship record and solidify his status as the face of competitive bull riding. 

Plus, Sokka always had a plan. 

Sokka lowered his body into the saddle, bracing himself as Appa reared back in shock at the sudden intrusion. Appa released a furious roar and bucked up, attempting to throw Sokka from the saddle. Luckily, Haru and a couple of other cowboys stood attentively on either side of the chute, holding Sokka in place. Sokka settled into the saddle and gripped the thick bull-rope that wrapped behind Appa’s forelegs. 

_“Looks like Sokka is in position! Will he beat his father Hakoda’s world record tonight?”_

Gritting his teeth, Sokka kicked his right ankle backward, pushing the spurs on his boots into Appa’s side three times in quick succession. Appa howled once again, slamming Sokka sideways into the chute as the animal recoiled in pain. He held the bull-rope tight in his gloved right hand while his left hand rested on the wall of the chute. 

Haru shouted over the cacophony of noise in the arena, now rising in volume due to the collective anticipation of the fans. “Say when, bro.”

Sokka took another hard buck from Appa, moving along with the force of the jolt to prevent being shifted in his seat. Sokka could practically feel every small twitch from Appa and felt his body counteracting each movement accordingly, maintaining his balance. 

From this vantage point, Sokka had a better view of his personal battleground. On the other side of the chute door, the dirt-covered arena would be his stage. A handful of rodeo clowns milled around the space, ready to provide distraction and assistance should Sokka need it. Cell phone lights flickered like stars in the darkened stands and the spotlight that shone directly on Sokka felt warm like the sun. 

It was now or never. 

Sokka yelled, “Yip yip!”

That was the signal. The rodeo clown yanked the chute door wide open and Appa barreled out of it like a cannon.

One second.

_“And they are off folks!”_

Two seconds. 

Appa was five feet in the air, kicking his hind legs backward. Sokka leaned forward in the saddle to offset the shifted angle. 

Three seconds. 

Sokka got a 360 view of the arena as Appa whirled around. 

Four seconds. 

The announcer shouted something else, but the words blended into the white noise of the defeating audience. Sokka could only hear the breeze whistling across his ear as Appa once again took flight. It sounded like an autumn wind. 

Five seconds. 

Sokka’s left hand ached to come down, but in the air it stayed as every other muscle in his body worked to keep him upright.

Six seconds. 

Appa’s forelegs rose off the dirt a few feet, then slammed back down almost instantly, torso twisting as it did so. Sokka clenched his thighs tighter. 

Seven seconds. 

Sokka expected a quick jerk to the right followed by another hard buck. But Appa kept turning, alternating crushing down into the dirt with his front hooves, then his back hooves as he went. The bull created his own personal cyclone with Sokka trapped in the middle. 

The hard dirt of the ring suddenly rose up like the tide and hit Sokka square in the face before he registered what happened. 

Instinctively, Sokka moved to push himself up with both arms. The ground under him was still rocking and somewhere to his left was the epicenter. He hissed in pain when his right arm failed to hold up his weight, shooting sharp shocks of pain up to his shoulder. 

_“Oh! And right at the seven second mark, Sokka couldn't hang on and—wait, someone better get that animal under control!”_

Various voices were screaming his name. Sokka tried to call out but accidentally inhaled a large cloud of dust. 

Eyes watering, Sokka managed to get to his knees using the strength in his left arm before the thundering earthquake was suddenly there. Before he could react, Sokka felt Appa’s large, warm head edge it's way under his torso and pull upward, throwing him almost ten feet into the air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my first AO3 work! Let me know what you think in the comments :)


	2. one year later

(one year later)

_...And there is the same difference between someone who is in love and what he was like before as there is between a lamp that is lit and one that is not. The lamp was there all the time and it was a good lamp, but now it is giving light as well and that is its true function..._

“Have you seen Zuko?” The question was punctuated by the sound of a door slamming back into the frame, making the bones of the rickety house tremble. 

Upstairs, Zuko was startled out of his concentrated state by the sudden ruckus. He reflexively put his index finger underneath the sentence he’d just finished reading, then looked nervously toward the closed door of his bedroom. Really? She had to do this _now_?

“In his room, studying,” a second, distant voice responded in a bored manner that suggested the answer was one given frequently. There was a momentary pause. “What do you have there?”

Footsteps began stomping up the stairs. “A surprise!”

“There's no way you’ll convince him to come with us!”

With a disappointed sigh, Zuko placed a bookmark in the spine of the book and closed it, then swiveled around in his desk chair just as his best friend Suki burst through the door. She looked pink-tinged and out of breath. A large white shopping bag hung from her perfectly manicured hand. 

“Guess what!” Suki asked excitedly, rushing across the room to drop the bag on his bed. 

“Here to continue the assault on my Friday night plans?” Zuko replied, eyeing his best friend warily. 

“Don’t be dramatic,” Suki turned to stick out her tongue at him, one arm elbow-deep inside the shopping bag. “But, yes. Though this time I brought you a bribe!” 

“A bribe?” 

“Look!” Suki tossed something large and black at him, forcing Zuko to reach out and catch it before the item knocked over his desk lamp. Once the danger of broken glass all over his school supplies had passed, he examined the object as though it were a landmine rather than fresh out of a department store. Zuko recognized it as a boot—specifically, a _cowboy_ boot, made of black leather material with a pointed toe.

Suki ignored the exasperated look on Zuko’s face, grinning from ear to ear as she waited for him to react. She was holding up the second boot in her hands like a winning team holding the championship trophy. “Aren’t they great?”

“You...aren't serious,” Zuko said, turning the boot around in his hands, examining it from every angle. 

Suki huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Well of course I’m serious! Yesterday you said you couldn't go because you had nothing to wear. This solves your problem!”

Zuko glared at her, irritated. For over a week, Suki had been working his nerves daily trying to convince him to go to a local rodeo event. It was going to be at an arena just outside Winston-Salem, about a 30 minute drive out into the countryside. And apparently, there was a dress code. 

Zuko had known Suki for almost six years now, having met her in a freshman English seminar. They hit it off immediately when Zuko was unable to hold in a laugh after Suki annihilated a sexist male classmate during a Socratic circle, and had essentially been inseparable ever since. Suki knew everything there was to know about Zuko, and vice versa. Yet, how Suki—a straight-A law student with a background in women’s studies and extensive resume in local social justice efforts—was into _rodeos_ was beyond him. 

“Suki, do you know what the definition of a bribe is? It’s supposed to make someone want to do something for you. These boots just solidify my desire to stay home tonight.” 

“Oh come on, Zuko! At least try them on?”

Zuko grimaced and was ready to vehemently deny the request. Suki widened her eyes innocently and pouted, clearly going for a “sad puppy dog” look. He glanced back down at the boot in his hand and sighed in defeat. 

Carefully, Zuko set the boot down on the floor and stuck his socked foot into the opening, then repeated the action with the second boot Suki handed to him. He stood up and walked to the full body mirror beside his closet. The boots coupled with the pair of old basketball shorts he wore seemed to make his legs look skinnier and ganglier than they were. 

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look awesome!” she insisted happily, coming up to stand behind him as he awkwardly turned to see how the boots looked from various angles. 

“Okay, so am I just supposed to wear the boots and go naked? I don't have any clothes that will match with these,” Zuko argued, hoping that the slight desperation in his tone would make Suki back off. But of course, it only made her go in with the forceful insistence only a future lawyer could have. 

“Just wear what you usually wear to go out in. That’s why I got you black, it goes with anything in your wardrobe.” 

“I can't believe you want me to go to a rodeo,” Zuko complained as he sat on his bed, wrenching one boot off his right foot with more strength than he ever used when removing footwear. “Also, who decided that this was the appropriate footwear for the everyday, rural working person?”

“It’s not a rodeo, Zuko. It's _bull riding_. There’s a difference.”

“That is literally ten times worse,” Zuko said, punctuating the last word with a sharp yank to the boot on his left foot. 

“You really need to broaden your horizons.”

“What do you even do at a ro—I mean, bull riding?”

“We drink beer, we hang out, and we watch hot cowboys ride bulls! Plus Mai is going to take pictures for her portfolio.”

“Fascinating.”

“Zuko, please come!” Suki pleaded as she sat down on the bed next to him, crossing her legs on top of the comforter. “I _know_ you don't have any work to do because you're the most perfectionist, on-top-of-your-shit person I know. You have stellar grades, a job lined up in New York, and an internship for all the work and no pay. You can afford to take a night off and enjoy yourself.”

“I am enjoying myself!” Zuko said defensively.

“Reading Vincent Van Gogh’s letters to his brother that you've already read a million times does not count!” Suki shot back, pointing accusingly at his desk, where the book he had been reading before she came in rested innocently on the wooden surface. 

Zuko groaned, running his hands over his face. “I just don't see myself going to watch bull riding,” he told her.

“See, that's your problem right there! Have you ever once considered that maybe the places you don't see yourself are the places where you’re _meant_ to be?” 

“That makes no sense.”

“It does and you know it. Now stop being a coward and come spend time with us.”

The room fell silent as Zuko thought about it. While it was true that the idea of going to a bull riding competition was low on his list of fun Friday night outings, the opportunities for nights out with Suki and Mai were rare. With Zuko’s internship at a local art museum, Suki’s law school schedule, and Mai constantly booked for photo gigs, it proved difficult to remember the last time they all spent quality time together outside of occasional 2am dinners in the living room.

Zuko felt a familiar dread in his gut blooming that was usually the tell-tale sign that his resolve was wavering. “You aren't going to let me off that easy, are you?” 

“Do I ever?” Suki smirked, knowing that she was—yet again—very close to winning. 

“Fine, I’ll come.”

“Yay!”

“But I’m not wearing the boots.” 

* * *

Later that evening, Zuko made a mental note to force Suki to watch The Godfather I, III, and III back to back with him, with no breaks _and_ extra showings of the Sofia Coppola death scene. Then, and only then, would she pay for his current predicament: sitting front row on squeaky metal bleachers around a dirt-covered rodeo arena wearing his favorite burgundy jacket, black jeans, and those damned cowboy boots. 

Zuko looked around impatiently, feeling self-conscious as he sat alone—Suki had gone to buy them all beers and Mai was taking a loop around the place, scoping out ideal locations for action shots once the contest started. Realistically they'd only been gone for about 10 minutes but it really felt like hours.

More than once Zuko had to remind himself to stop fidgeting and keep his feet flat on the ground. The boots fit well because _Suki,_ but they were a bit tight around his toes since they were brand new. The rest of his outfit was truer to his personal style—more brooding hipster than country boy—but that only made the discomfort worse. 

Suki had worn a pretty green dress under a jean jacket with well-worn brown boots and straw hat, accentuating her eyes and auburn hair. Even Mai, who owned more dark clothing than Zuko, nailed the dress code with a black tank top and jean shorts accessorized with the biggest, most blinged out belt buckle he's ever seen. Given that more than one man’s eyes practically jolted out of their sockets upon seeing the two as the friends searched for seats, Zuko figured they wouldn't have any issues fitting in. 

He tried to focus on the activity in the actual arena, where a couple of rodeo clowns were chatting it up in the middle of the ring. There was a group of cowboys near the bucking chutes. A few of them were busy strapping on heavy-looking vests and thick gloves—likely protective equipment of some sort. Zuko could also hear the whinnying of bulls being led out of their trailers toward the chutes. He checked his phone again: it was a quarter to seven. The bull riding was scheduled to start soon. 

According to Suki, ten bull riders would be competing for the winner’s trophy. The winner would be open to compete in further regional and state competitions in order to qualify for the Professional Bull Riders World Finals later that year in Las Vegas. It was a serious contest, she had insisted when Zuko said _uh-huh_ in his most condescending tone. Tonight’s lineup even included a couple of previous World Champions trying to rise their way through the ranks. So Zuko was in for a good show, apparently. 

Finally, Suki had returned, this time carrying three tall cans of Modelo, each with a lime wedge shoved into the open lip. “Sorry, long line!” she apologized as she handed Zuko one of the beers, then plopped down next to him. 

“Thank god, _alcohol,_ ” Zuko sighed in relief, plucking the lime wedge out of the can and bringing it to his lips. He sucked some of the juice onto his tongue, then followed it with a couple of deep gulps of beer. The cold beverage settled the anxiety in his belly somewhat, and it gave him something to do. 

“Mai back yet?” Suki asked after taking a drink herself, following Zuko’s example of sucking the lime before taking a sip.

Zuko shook his head, setting down the half emptied can carefully beside him on the bleacher. “No, I think I saw her over by the chutes earlier though. She said she’d come back before it starts.”

“Cool,” Suki said approvingly, sipping her beer lightly as she took a cursory glance around the arena, which was getting fuller by the minute. Zuko guessed that most of the patrons were still over by the bar, meaning that the majority of the seats would likely be taken by the time the contest began. “So, see anything you like?” 

“What, like the exit?”

Suki huffed and shoved Zuko’s shoulder brusquely with her own. “No, smartass. You know what I mean.”

Zuko rolled his eyes and picked up his beer again. “Suki, how many guys here do you think are bi? Or gay even?” 

“Probably more than you think! Come on, you’ve seen Brokeback Mountain.”

“ _Suki_.”

“Okay, okay Zuko. I’m just saying, you know, maybe you should look outside your comfort zone? Play the field a little, try something— or someone—different!”

Zuko didn't respond immediately, choosing to take a few more gulps and finish his beer to give himself time to consider her suggestion. Luckily, Mai showed up and sat down on Suki’s other side before the silence drew on too long and he was interrogated further.

Mai accepted the third beer from Suki with one hand while cradling her camera tenderly in the other. “Good news—the lightning isn't actually that bad in this dirt pile. I think I'll get some really nice shots _if_ they ever decide to start soon.” 

“Shouldn't be long now,” Suki assured her, tipping her can up to down the remaining beer. 

Mai raised an eyebrow at Suki, then spotted the can Zuko was now slowly crushing with his hands on his lap. “I forgot how quickly the two of you can put away drinks.”

An idea struck Zuko, so he stood and held out his hand toward Suki expectantly. “Your can, Sukes? I’ll toss these and get us all another round. Give Mai enough time to catch up.” 

Suki let out a whooping laugh then said, “Atta boy!” as she gave him her empty beer can. 

Zuko navigated around the twos and threes that were coming up the stairs as he searched for his first target: the bathroom. If Zuko was going to be forced to endure an entire competitive bull riding competition, he would certainly be tipsy doing it. Best he empty his bladder now. 

After tossing the empty beer cans in a recycling tub, Zuko located the bathrooms and did his business. There were a few other guys in there, all wearing plaid shirts, wide-brimmed hats, and buckles that almost rivaled Mai’s with the amount of bling. He hurriedly washed his hands before any of them noticed how out of place and downright _city_ he looked. 

Once finished with that, Zuko went to the nearest bar and got in line, pulling out his wallet to expedite the process. As he waited, Suki’s insistent plea to play the field came back to mind. 

Zuko would be lying if he said he didn't miss dating, or at least the temporary comfort of a partner to confide in. But it had been over a year since Jet and that hadn't ended well. Before that, he’d spent a couple of months with Mai during undergrad before she admitted that she liked girls. So not much of a history to speak of, but it didn’t matter now. Not unless his yet to be found soulmate also had a one way ticket to New York City in the near future too. 

Just as Zuko said “three Modelos with lime, please” to the bartender, an amplified male voice boomed through the arena. 

_“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the toughest sport on dirt! Boy do we have a show for you tonight, starting with a newcomer from Wilmington, North Carolina...everyone give it up for Hanh!_ ” 

A raucous cheer erupted from the stands above Zuko, prompted by what he assumed was the first rider’s entrance into the ring. He hurriedly signed the receipt and picked up the new beers carefully with both hands, following the flow of attendees back toward the stairs leading up to the bleachers. 

Zuko returned to Suki and Mai just in time to watch Hanh fly off the bull he was riding, a huge light brown thing, and drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes. “That was quick,” he quipped to his friends as he handed them each a new drink. 

_“Ooh, that's gotta hurt!”_

“It’s only an 8 second ride, blink and you'll miss it!” Suki informed him, taking the beer gratefully. 

Suki was, at least, partially correct. In theory, eight seconds was negligible, almost nothing. But the more Zuko observed the riders—and the more Modelos he had—he found himself appreciating the immense physiciality and risk each bull rider exhibited during that time. 

Zuko winced every time a rider’s body slammed into the ground, the thud echoing loudly against the dirt. Despite all of the padding, getting thrown off a bull had to _hurt_ , right? At one point, one of the riders took a second too long to stand after a nasty fall. The rodeo clowns guided the bull a safe distance back into a chute, but Zuko and the rest of the crowd held their breath as they waited for him to stand and show he was okay. A few tense minutes past and the rider did just that. Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. 

Mai had left Suki and Zuko halfway through the lineup to get into position to shoot some of the World Champion riders, who were slated to compete toward the end. Zuko spotted her across the ring on the bleachers closest to the bucking chutes, adjusting her lens. 

Suki, comfortably tipsy now after her fourth drink, leaned into Zuko’s shoulder and looked up at him with pleading eyes, “I want a hot cowboy.”

Zuko, also feeling a fantastic buzz, laughed and patted her head comfortingly. “I know, honey. You’ve said that ten times already.” Suki grumbled something that sounded like “did not” and switched her gaze toward the ring, where the next rider was gearing up.

Suddenly, Zuko felt her whole body tense instantly and sat up straight, actually leaning forward in her seat as she stared at something in the ring. “Oh... my god.”

“What?”

“Look at that guy in the chute!”

Zuko followed her energetically pointing index finger and focused on the chute, trying to find whoever Suki was staring at.

The guy in question was one of the bull riders, the last in the lineup. He was facing Suki and Zuko’s general direction, which allowed them an unobstructed view. The rider was wearing a blue plaid shirt tucked into blue jeans. Black leather chaps encased his legs and matched well-worn cowboy boots on his feet. His body was tall, broad, and very obviously muscular underneath his long sleeved shirt. Most interestingly, he had chin-length dark hair that framed his face that contrasted the short styles Zuko had noticed on the other participants. 

_“And now folks, we’re back at the chute with local hero, Sokka, from Walkertown, North Carolina!”_

“Go Sokka!” Suki cheered, clapping wildly beside him. 

Zuko continued to analyze Sokka, now busy pulling on thick leather gloves and fastening them to his wrists. Once that task was finished, the man patted his vest and the buckle on his chaps, doing a once over on his gear before donning a black cowboy hat. Though Zuko couldn't make out many details due to the distance, he sensed a thoughtful, practiced routine in the way Sokka was using his final minutes before the ride. 

_“Sokka is a four time PBR World Finals champion! For over a year, an injury sidelined him, but he’s back! Currently ranked 52nd in the world, he has a long way to go! And today, he will be riding Momo!”_

Zuko spotted Mai again with her camera raised up to eye level, leaning this way and that as she furiously snapped photos of Sokka as he carefully mounted the bull encased in the chute. Momo bashed against the side of the metal rails as Sokka settled into the saddle, much like the other bulls had done to their riders throughout the night. Zuko watched Sokka converse tensely with the cowboys assisting him, then give a nod.

Seconds later, the chute door burst open and Sokka was all but tied to Momo’s back as the latter tried furiously to buck him off the saddle. One of Sokka’s hands acted as an anchor while the rest of his body ebbed and flowed in tandem with the bucking bull’s jagged, desperate moves. But it was useless—no matter what the bull seemed to do, Sokka reacted seamlessly and kept himself balanced. Zuko barely registered the roar of the crowd as he stayed totally focused on the man.

It wasn't until Suki was screaming “He won! He won!” at his ear and Sokka let himself fall off Momo’s back, landing neatly on his boots, that Zuko realized the ride was over. 

Letting the adrenaline take over, Zuko hopped to his feet and punched the air with his fist. “Yes!” 

Suki said, “Oh, who’s excited now?”

Zuko shrugged, grinning. “I just felt like I should stand,” he replied noncommittally. 

_“And we have ourselves a champion! Sokka now moved up to 48th in world standings!”_

In the ring, Sokka was also smiling and giving an appreciative wave to the fans in the bleachers when it happened. Momo, unimpressed with the rodeo clowns who were trying to gather him back into the chute, spotted Sokka a few yards away. Then the animal burst into a gallop straight for Sokka, gaining speed with every second. 

Suki’s laugh shifted into a shocked gasp. Almost simultaneously, Sokka realized what was happening. He began a swift sprint in the other direction away from Momo, right toward where Zuko and Suki were sitting.

As Momo quickly closed in, Sokka leaped forward and took hold of the metal fence separating the audience from the ring just feet in front of Suki and Zuko. They watched in horror as Sokka hastily climbed the rails, almost completely over the fence, until he was high enough to escape the battering ram that was Momo. The momentum caused Sokka’s cowboy hat to come loose and fall off his head, landing right at Zuko’s feet. 

The fence rattled loudly as Momo threw his body against it, but Sokka was perched safely on top of the fence and outside the animal’s reach. Put out, Momo whined loudly and allied himself to be guided back to the chutes. 

“Holy shit,” Zuko breathed, heart pounding in his chest at what he just witnessed. How close had Sokka been to getting stomped by the animal? Had the rider not acted fast and scaled the fence, or been outrun by Momo… 

Once Momo was safely confined, Sokka glanced downward to determine the best route to climb back down to the ring. For the briefest of moments as Sokka came down, his eyes met Zuko's briefly. When they did, Zuko realized Sokka had the bluest eyes he'd ever seen in his life. The bluest blue he'd ever seen _anywhere_. 

Sokka carefully claimed back down the metal fence, dusted himself off, and turned to start walking back to the chutes. He didn't even try to recover his hat, or perhaps not even realized it was missing. 

With a start, Zuko grabbed the hat off the ground and took a few steps toward the fence. He used one arm to hold it out toward the retreating bull rider. “Hey!”

Sokka whirled around, meeting Zuko’s anxious but eager expression. “Your hat,” Zuko reminded him a little breathlessly, waving it once in his outstretched hand as though to make sure Sokka noticed it. 

But Sokka didn't give the hat any attention, instead continuing to gaze back at Zuko curiously, almost appraising him. If Zuko had felt out of place earlier, that was nothing to how abruptly exposed he felt under Sokka’s piercing stare. 

And again, those _eyes._ They were like living pockets of Van Gogh’s Starry Night and all its shades of blue. He wanted to fall into that sky and swim in it. 

A tentative smile unfolded on Sokka’s lips. 

“Keep it,” Sokka said, in a tone that somehow kept Zuko from insisting any further. 

Sokka took a couple of steps backward, still considering Zuko thoughtfully before finally turning his entire body to return to the chutes. But not before shooting him a sly, barely-there wink that made Zuko’s breath hitch and his fingers tighten around the wide-brimmed hat. 

Zuko realized a couple of minutes later that he was still standing by the fence with the hat, well after Sokka had disappeared. Mortified, he felt his face turn hot and hastily returned to his seat. Suki, meanwhile, was giving him the biggest shit-eating grin as he did, just adding to the embarrassment. 

“Work it, boy,” Suki said teasingly, motioning to the hat Zuko was still gripping in his right hand. 

“Shut up,” Zuko retorted, trying to sound nonchalant. In reality, he hoped it wasn't obvious on his face that all he wanted to do now was go home and closely examine his new hat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quick notes - 
> 
> 1) I am not using a beta reader so if there are any errors or inconsistencies, please let me know so I can correct them! I am open to having a beta, however, so any seasoned beta readers who might be interested feel free to inbox me too :)
> 
> 2) I am borrowing a lot of dialogue from the TLR film as it is my primarily inspiration, but the direction of the plot will be a little different. So if anything sounds familiar, that is why. 
> 
> 3) My only knowledge of bull riding is from TLR and a few visits to my city’s yearly rodeo, so know that I am taking some liberties and using Wikipedia as far as the actual rules of the sport. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.


	3. a thirsty horse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not intend for that long of a break between updates. Between moving across the country, the election, Thanksgiving, and work—everything happened at once. But I'm excited to continue work on this!

"You did it!" Haru shouted excitedly, clapping a hand to Sokka's shoulder as the latter exited the small office in the commentator's tower.

It was now twenty minutes after Sokka was declared the winner of the night’s event. As an active participant in the professional season, Sokka was required to meet with officials from Professional Bull Riders to discuss the upcoming competition circuit. The arena had nearly emptied out of spectators by the time he finished. Only a crew occupied with dismantling temporary holding pens for the animals and Haru remained.

"Thanks man," said Sokka, grinning earnestly as he returned the embrace. The pair had known each other since they were small, back when it was their fathers showing off in the dirt. Now, they were both 25 years old and Haru towered over Sokka by several inches. An injury to his knee kept Haru out of the professional stage and he opted for a business degree at the local college instead. Even so, Haru continued to be one of the most talented cowboys around. And, of course, Sokka’s best friend. 

"So what's next?" Haru asked as they made their way out of the venue. Their target was an open field behind the arena repurposed to serve as a staging area, just beyond the view of any spectators. 

They paused to let a frazzled-looking ranch hand cut across the path, pulling a whining bull on a thick rope as he went. "Greensboro, next Saturday," Sokka answered immediately, still a little breathless from the ride and subsequent barrage of details from the PBR team. He hoped it wouldn't take long to get used to the whirlwind of competition days again. 

On one side of the staging area, a long line of massive cattle trailers sat open, ready to transport tonight's lineup of performance bulls back to the ranches they lived at in-between competitions. A first-aid tent run by local EMTs was closing up shop, though a couple of younger guys still lingered in folding chairs, nursing their bruises with ice packs. A shiny BMW and tiny Mercedes occupied parking spaces closest to the arena—likely belonging to the PBR officials who had come to observe. The cars stood out among the array of pickup trucks, all sporting some combination of lifted wheels, dusty exteriors, and shiny grilles.

Riders, cowboys, and members of the local bull riding association alike milled around tailgate to tailgate congratulating one another. People called out to Sokka as they went, their cheerful hoots adding to the cacophony. 

“Nice ride, Sokka!"

“Lookin’ good out there!”

“Congrats Sokka, you’ll move back up in no time!”

Sokka waved graciously at them. "Let's get out of here," he whispered discreetly to Haru. 

Sokka felt bad about the distance. It was out of character for him to skirt past everyone without much interaction. Typically, he would be right there with them after a win like tonight's, exchanging jokes with rookies and rubbing elbows with the officials. It reminded him of being a five year old clinging bashfully to his father's leg as Hakoda socialized with his own colleagues. Sokka felt a surge of pride knowing that kid-Sokka’s dream of joining the raucous fun had come true.

That was before his accident. 

In the present, a cowboy decked in rodeo clown gear ran up to shake Sokka's hand. Sokka smiled politely and accepted his well wishes. Internally, he counted the seconds until it would be socially acceptable to disengage. Sokka desperately hoped the man would interpret the shaking in his palm for lingering adrenaline rather than the residual panic that had overcome him in the chutes.

Haru noticed it first, asking Sokka if he was alright just seconds before his comeback.

_Sokka looked up at Haru, frowning at the question. His friend was watching him carefully, hesitation and concern plain on his face. It was a look that Sokka's doctors, Katara, his father, and everyone else had spent months giving him as he remained unwavering in his desire to return to the ring. Below him, Momo huffed angrily and rocked forward into the gate a couple of times before releasing a frustrated whine._

_Aggravation rose up in Sokka’s chest as he held onto the gates on either side of the chute for balance. He was so, so tired of everyone treating him like a patient. They told him he couldn't heal properly in a year and he did. They told him he couldn't complete physical therapy in a year and he did. They told him he couldn't be ready for the competition circuit and here he was, sitting in the saddle in front of a full arena. Why wouldn't they just back off?_

_"Yeah I'm fine," Sokka said in a sharp tone that Haru didn't deserve. "Why?"_

_"You're shaking."_

_That gave Sokka enough pause that he stopped what he was doing to examine himself. His legs were locked around each side of Momo, thighs keeping him in place. The muscles in his abdomen were tight and his spine was straight, though not quite rigid to allow for flexibility and ease of movement. Sokka rolled his shoulders back once, feeling the joints carefully._

_Then he noticed it: a steady tremblor that extended from his fingertips to his elbow. It was minute enough that Sokka overlooked it during his pre-ride routine. Haru must have been heavily scrutinizing Sokka if he recognized the reaction before the bull rider did._

_Sokka tightened his right palm into a rigid fist around the bull-rope, hoping to quell the shaking. It worked a little, but he could feel the waves of muted terror practically vibrating in his veins without release. His heartbeat thrummed wildly underneath his vest. The blood seemed to pump loudly in his own ears, muffling the sound of the announcer introducing him._

_"It's nothing," Sokka insisted, wincing internally when his attempt at bravado fell flat. "I'm ready."_

_"But—"_

_"Haru, please."_

_"Alright." Sokka knew that Haru was not convinced. He also knew this would surely get back to Katara at some point, but he couldn't afford to lose focus now. Not when everything was back on track. Sokka would deal with the fallout later. "Good luck, man."_

_Sokka inhaled deeply, focusing all of his strength into his hand that secured him to Momo. "Yip yip!"_

“Katara's here, by the way. She told me she'd wait by the truck."

"Great." 

Sokka was happy that Katara witnessed his return to the arena, but cringed at the thought of his sister watching his impromptu face-off with Momo after the year their family just had. Sokka didn't blame the rodeo clowns for not corralling the bull right away. It was a risky job that was as unpredictable as each animal. Run-ins like that came with the territory and Katara knew that as well as Sokka did. Still, it would be a wasted effort to hope that she would just sweep it under the rug. 

Haru excused himself to greet some college buddies, letting Sokka continue on alone until he ultimately spotted Katara. She was leaning against the side of Sokka’s blue Chevy Silverado, dressed neatly in a dressy white blouse, black pants, and flats. It was an outfit more suited to a business professional setting than a bucking arena in the middle of nowhere North Carolina. Her silver Prius was wedged in the parking spot directly to the right of his truck. 

“Did you come straight from class?” Sokka called out to her. He attempted to recall the specifics of Katara’s medical school schedule but came up short. What he _did_ remember was the early morning phone call in late summer when she'd taken 20 minutes from his workout to bemoan the evening labs that had ended up on her class list. He hoped she hadn't sped too much on the way out of Winston-Salem. 

“Yeah, I made it on time to see the last couple of riders,” Katara said affirmatively, pushing off the truck and extending her arms out to her brother as he got closer. 

Sokka walked right into them, pressed his lips lightly against her hair as he wrapped his arms around her small frame. “Thank you for coming." 

Katara tightened her arms around his torso. She didn't speak for a couple of long moments, before assuring him in a softer voice, “Dad would have been proud."

“Yeah," was all Sokka could think of to say to that. He squeezed her gently once more before letting go. 

"How's the shoulder?" Katara asked, switching to lean against the Prius while Sokka opened the tailgate and began removing his gear. 

Sokka hated how instantly defensive he felt, though it was by all accounts a fairly normal question. "Shoulder's great." He tossed his vest into the bed of the truck with more force than necessary. 

"Don't lie to me, Sokka." Her tone dipped toward sympathy.

"I'm not lying!" He switched focus to the buckle of his chaps, undoing it hastily. 

"And where were the cowboys when that bull was coming after you?" Katara demanded, voice rising in tandem with Sokka's. Her hands went to her hair, gathering the brown tresses into a ponytail. She held it for a moment before letting it all go again—a habit when she was feeling anxious. "I swear, everyone was off in La-La Land when they should have made sure you were covered."

"It's not their fault—"

"I already talked to Haru about it, don't think I wouldn't."

"Katara—"

"I know this is only a local contest but it's still everyone's responsibility to keep y’all safe! What if something had happened to you?"

"That was nothing! How many times did a bull try and chase Dad around the ring?" 

Indeed, it was a preferred antic of Hakoda's on show nights, particularly when his children were present. Using his cowboy hat like a matador used a red cape, Hakoda would wave it in the air, wiggling his eyebrows like a super villain. He always waited until the last minute (much to their mother Kya’s displeasure) but when the bull eventually charged him, Hakoda hopped out of the way easily. It never failed to make Sokka and Katara lose their minds, bellies clutched with laughter.

"You're lucky you weren't already face-down in the dirt and that the fence around the ring was high enough," Katara fired back immediately in a hard voice. The humor in such a situation had long since dissipated for her. 

"I'm not doing this right now." 

"But—" 

"No, Katara." Sokka cut her off firmly. He could tell where the conversation was heading and...there was no way Sokka could handle _that_ right now, lest the shaking in his hands returned. He guessed Katara hadn't been told what happened in the chute and took a brief second to thank the heavens for Haru's incredible sense of tact. 

"I don't want to fight with you again," Sokka pleaded, hoping to table the conversation for now. He analyzed the conflict in Katara's eyes carefully as he spoke. "We’ve been through this. I've made my decision and I'm not going back on it."

Katara opened her mouth to argue, but Sokka kept on. "I won tonight. Despite everything that's happened, I'm _happy_ about it, okay? I know you don't understand it but please...just be happy for me. I don't want to do this without you. I can't."

Sokka felt his heart clench when Katara reached up to wipe a tear from her lashes. She was silently regarding the arena in the distance, but he knew where her mind _really_ was. Sokka's was in the same place. Quickly, he pushed the memory to the back of his mind, where it joined everything else that constantly threatened to break the dam he spent an entire year building. 

"I'm sorry," Katara said quietly, looking back at Sokka. Her eyes shined remorsefully and Sokka knew she meant it. "I don't want to fight either. It'll just take time to get used to the idea. Everything changed so fast for our family, you know."

Sokka lifting the tailgate to shut it firmly. "Yeah it has."

“Seeing the bull come after you was scary.”

“I know.”

"I really am proud of you. I'll try to make it to as many competitions as I can."

"Thanks, Katara."

Katara's face immediately brightened in the familiar, comforting way it did when she had an idea. "Do you have plans right now?"

"I was gonna call it a night early, actually."

"I'm meeting Aang at the Thirsty Horse. Come have a drink with us?" Katara's voice was eager but the sentiment didn't quite reach her eyes. Sokka knew she was trying to make up for her outburst and appreciated the intent nonetheless. "He was really bummed he couldn't make it out to watch you."

Sokka considered his previous guilt from the lack of socialization on his part. His empty house and overcrowded Netflix watchlist was certainly the preferable option, but maybe one whiskey wouldn't hurt. Plus, it had been a couple of weeks since Sokka had spent time with Katara. Their busy schedules didn't allow for much overlap, so best take advantage where he could. 

"Okay," Sokka conceded easily. "Meet you there?"

Katara was already in her Prius when Sokka reached up to throw his hat in the truck and follow. All his palm touched, however, was hair. He frowned in confusion, leaning forward to examine the contents of his truck bed. What had happened to his hat?

It took a moment for the memory to resurface. Sokka, thoroughly embarrassed, felt nothing like a bull rider and more like a clumsy child when he'd made his way down that fence. Though dozens of people raised their voices to get his attention, it was a lone "Hey!" that somehow compelled Sokka to turn around. The sight of a handsome man, face flushed and eyes unsure as he held out Sokka's hat through the fence, had been enough to momentarily dull the humiliation. 

With no hat to stow, Sokka just tied up his loose hair with an extra band he kept on his wrist, exposing his shaved undercut to the cool wind. He smiled to himself while entering his truck and brought it to life with a roar.

* * *

The Thirsty Horse was a dive, there was no way around it. The place's primary source of light were the dozen neon beer brand signs perched on the walls, supplemented with old lanterns and a weird chandelier that hovered precariously over the tiny dance floor. The wood counters along the bar were worn with years of scratches and layers of vanish. Despite this, they were always clean and cleared. In the far corner, an old 1950s jukebox that only took nickels supplied the music, mostly consisting of old country with a sprinkle of new choices for younger clientele. 

The bar's appearance often kept a more rowdy crowd from stepping foot inside. Its proximity to the bucking arena meant tonight was busier than most, but not enough to convince Sokka to bow out. He found Katara inside, already occupying a small table near the jukebox with her boyfriend, Aang. Sokka paused by the bar to buy a whiskey neat before joining them. Unfortunately, it meant enduring another round of enthusiastic congratulations from the bartender before Sokka was given his drink (on the house, of course) and he could continue toward his friends. 

"Hey Sokka," Aang said cheerfully, raising his fist to bump it gently against Sokka's knuckles. "Congrats on the win tonight!"

"Thanks man," Sokka replied as he sat down in an empty chair. 

"Heard the bull gave you a run for your money!" Aang said light-heartedly, letting out a chuckle when Sokka's eyes widened at the comment. 

Sokka turned accusingly to his sister. "For once can you let _me_ tell the story? What, were you sending Aang live-updates?"

Aang answered 'Yes' at the same time Katara said 'Of course not!'. The couple looked at each other guiltily. 

"Katara gave me the highlights, but I wanna hear the details from you! C'mon Sokka, please?" Aang set down his glass—club soda with lime, he didn't drink alcohol—and straightened in his seat, attentively waiting for Sokka to speak. 

Sokka took a swig of his drink and relented, recounting the story from his perspective to an attentive Aang and Katara. He purposely downplayed some of the more dramatic details, earning himself an eye roll from Katara as she sipped delicately at her margarita. The topic shifted naturally to the upcoming event in Greensboro before Sokka, tired of talking about himself, engaged Aang about his own going ons at the elementary school where he taught. 

Conversation flowed easily after that. The noise level in the Thirsty Horse grew from a soft hum to a loud buzz of activity, but luckily nobody bothered the trio. Katara was sitting facing Sokka with her back to the rest of the place, properly obscuring him from view. When she eventually stood up to visit the ladies' room, Sokka finally got a 180-view of the place. More patrons had dropped in over the course of the evening and it was starting to be a little crowded.

Sokka swirled the ice cubes in his glass, silently deciding to finish his drink and head home once Katara returned. The alcohol took the edge off, but fatigue tugged at his eyelids. 

Aang excused himself to put a nickel in the jukebox. Sokka glanced in that direction idly, raising his glass to his lips as his line of sight fell upon the busy bar...and then Sokka saw him. 

Sokka winced as he swallowed, having held the whiskey on his tongue a second too long. He coughed once to clear his throat.

He couldn't believe it. It was the man from the stands, the handsome one with the scar on his left eye. He was here at the _Thirsty Horse_ , leaning against the bar. There was an empty drink glass at his elbow and his fingers were tapping against the countertop, drumming along to what Sokka realized was the song Aang had just chosen on the jukebox. His free arm hung loosely by his side and Sokka's heart jumped upon noticing _he was still holding Sokka's hat._

Aang sat down again just as Katara returned from the restroom. Aang regretfully informed them of the lack of adequate Dolly Parton on the jukebox ("Jolene and 9 to 5 are NOT her only songs, she has a legendary discography!") but Sokka was only half listening. He carefully scooted his seat a little to the right, maintaining a stealth view of the bar over Katara's shoulder. 

A young woman with auburn hair and green dress was perched on a tall bar stool just to the man's left. She was waving her arms around wildly—Sokka guessed she was in the middle of a very action-packed story—while the man listened attentively. The way he was smiling fondly made Sokka guess she was either a close friend or girlfriend. There was a third person with them, another woman with pin-straight black hair and sharp fringe. She appeared decidedly less animated than either of her companions, but her lips were pressed together with an amused smirk all the same. 

Aang and Katara were now discussing the merits of Dolly's version of 'I Will Always Love You' against Whitney Houston's. Katara brought up a story of teenage Sokka belting the Whitney version in the shower after a particularly hard, romantic letdown in high school, making Aang laugh heartily. Sokka tried to look offended as to not arouse suspicion about his attention being elsewhere, like on how from this distance, the man looked to be about Sokka's height. Maybe a little taller. Sokka guessed they might be around the same age, too. 

Sokka wondered what his story was. 

The auburn-haired woman clapped her hands together and let out a gleeful laugh. Both of her companions joined in, unable to resist her obvious cheer. The man rubbed the back of his neck as they came down, his eyes glancing toward the back of the room. There was an exit there that led to an outdoor patio. It typically served as overflow space when the Thirsty Horse was bursting with customers. Sokka had spent enough time out there, sitting by the fire pits with Katara and Aang, to know that it was a much quieter area. Perfect for those looking for a break. 

Sokka politely re-focused on Katara and Aang, nodding vaguely when they decided that it was criminal to pit either version of the song against the other. He noticed movement out of his peripherals and glanced back in time to see the man start a path toward the patio exit. 

Katara's sheepish admittance about wanting to go to Dollywood sounded distant despite her sitting just inches away. Sokka's ears seemed to be honed into the now swinging patio door, the squeak of the hinges deafening over a pause in the music. 

"What do you think, Sokka?"

"Huh?" Katara and Aang were both staring at him expectantly. Sokka gulped, feeling out of sorts as he searched his memory for the last thing either of them said. To his dismay, he came up short. "Oh. Uh, yeah?"

Katara grinned triumphantly at Aang, sticking out her tongue playfully. "See?"

"Thanks for that, Sokka," Aang grumbled, feigning defeat as he looked warily at Katara. 

Sokka had no idea what they were talking about. The man's friends were still at the bar, heads tilted toward each other and deep in discussion. A new song started on the jukebox, eliciting a loud whoop from the Thirsty Horse patrons. A few people stood, moving their hips and stomping their boots to the beat. Katara and Aang were now laughing at a joke Sokka didn't hear. The patio door must have grown in size or something, because suddenly it was the most prominent feature in the bar to Sokka.

Fuck it. 

In one smooth gulp, Sokka downed the remainder of the whiskey and pushed his empty glass toward Katara. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up. Sokka could feel two pairs of eyes on his back as he wove through the crowded floor, stopping twice to shake hands with people before he was allowed to exit onto the sparsely populated patio. 

The man was standing near one of the fire pits, arms crossed against his chest and one hand curled around Sokka’s hat. The fire popped as it burned through a stack of chopped oak logs, illuminating his face. His expression looked serene but guarded, something in it telling Sokka bullriding and country bars weren't his normal scene. The man slowly rolled his head side to side, stretching out his neck muscles and letting the warmth from the fire spread across his skin. 

Stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, Sokka took a deep breath and stepped toward the fire. A few errant cautions sprung to mind, such as _'what if he kicks your ass, Sokka'_ and _'this is North Carolina, hardly the LGBT capital of the world, Sokka_ ', but decided he already got chased by a 1500 pound bull today. He’d done more dangerous things than this.

“I have a hat just like that," Sokka said in greeting, smiling apologetically when the man jumped slightly, startled by the intrusion. 

The man focused his attention on Sokka and _oh..._

Embarrassment squirmed in Sokka's belly at the simplistic way he had wondered about the man when they were inside. Up close, he recognized an epic odyssey written across his features. He read about long nights in the barely-there smudges under each eye and strict expectations in his posture, held high. His hair was longer than Sokka's, tied up in a topknot that was almost regal in its effect. The scar on his face was clearly a burn, jagged red sprawling out against smooth ivory. Sokka knew instantly that he was brave, maybe braver than he himself was.

However, even _that_ wasn't as intimidating as the way the man's gold eyes were staring at him.

Sokka mused idly if it was possible for a person's gaze to hit him harder than a drink does. A million different comparisons came to mind, yet none of them quite fit. They were the spoonfuls of amber honey being stirred into morning tea and tranquil sunsets over rolling hills on summer evenings all in one. In the flickering glow of the fire, those irises—and the man as a whole—seemed to be a trick of the light, an illusion, a dream. Sokka blinked, squeezing his eyes to be sure. 

There was silence for a few seconds as they regarded each other, before the man looked down at the hat in his grip. It seemed to click. “Oh, right. Here, I should—” A light blush formed across his unscarred cheek as he held the hat out to Sokka. 

Sokka held up his hands, shaking his head insistently. Because really, he couldn't think of anything worse than having their only connection snipped in two like a string, sending them floating in opposite directions. 

“No, you hold onto it," Sokka told him, trying to sound assertive but just coming up short of breathless. "Really, it probably looks better on you.” 

The man raised an eyebrow, unconvinced and probably waiting for Sokka to say 'sike'. No response came.

Did the flames start burning brighter or was the whiskey of twenty minutes past making a delayed appearance? Whatever it was, it seemed to heighten the anticipation thrumming in his chest as he held his ground. The declaration weaved in between them like the tendrils of smoke wafting from the fire, settling on his taste buds and his clothes and the atmosphere around them. 

Being a bull rider had naturally garnered Sokka lots of attention over the years. It was to be expected for a successful young athlete and performer. Combined with a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, it was impossible for Sokka to be anything other than a flirt. He wasn't a player, just a guy who knew what he wanted and loved giving attention just as he got it. Men, women, it didn't matter—when Sokka felt an attraction, he didn't see a point in waiting for the outcome like a spectator on the sidelines. He preferred, for lack of a better phrase, to grab the bull by the horns. 

That's why he felt unnerved by an unwelcome doubt intermingling with the awe. It reminded him of the fear that had seized him in the chutes earlier that evening. Did the accident irreparably alter this part of himself too? 

After some long moments, the man slowly detached his eyes from Sokka and refocused on the hat, analyzing it as though for the first time. Sokka watched in amazement as the man smiled, almost to himself, and reached up to take the hair band out of his top knot. The man raised the hat up above his hair and once it was in position, used his palm to press it snugly down onto his head. He looked at Sokka again, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Like this?” 

The hat was on backwards. It still made Sokka’s heart do something funny in his chest.

Sokka laughed softly. “May I?”

“Sure.”

Sokka carefully reached up, keeping his fingers only on the brim even though they itched to touch the skin on the man's smooth jaw. He turned the hat around so the front dip faced forward and the crown rested comfortably on the man’s head. 

“There we go,” Sokka breathed quietly once the hat looked perfect. “I was right. It does look better on you." The man huffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes at the complement, though the blush on his cheek that now crept down his neck gave away his pleasure. "I’m Sokka, by the way.”

“Zuko.”

“Zuko.” Sokka repeated the two syllables carefully, feeling how the Z rolled off the tip off his tongue. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Do I look that out of place?” Zuko's bashful demeanor shifted abruptly to one of mild mortification. His body language seemed to withdraw ever so slightly, making Sokka instantly regretful of his ill-chosen question. _Way to ruin the mood._

“No, I’m sorry that was rude," Sokka apologized sincerely. "What I meant was—”

“No, don’t apologize." Zuko’s shoulders relaxed enough that Sokka also felt relieved. "You're right. I go to school in Winston-Salem. My friend Suki loves all this country stuff and our roommate Mai was photographing the competition. They convinced me to come out tonight.”

Sokka let out a low chuckle at the phrase 'all this country stuff'. It was endearing coming out of Zuko's mouth. “So, what did you think?"

“Of what?”

“Of the bull riding.”

“Oh. Well…”

The hesitation suddenly made Sokka very eager to hear Zuko's response. Having grown up surrounded by people who lived and breathed by the sport, it actually was rare that Sokka spoke with people who knew nothing about it. “Be honest, yeah? I can take it,” Sokka insisted with a teasing smirk. 

“It was...." Zuko glanced around desperately, as though hoping that the perfect word would come out from the Thirsty Horse and join them. He appeared to have given up on finding inspiration after a few seconds and just said, "—terrifying.”

Sokka wanted to know more. “Terrifying?”

“Well, yes. I mean, there's so much risk for 8 seconds. And you can only hold on with one hand, right? Plus all of the equipment and those bulls don't exactly _look_ friendly. At the same time, it was... _exhilarating_ ," Zuko said the last word like a question. "I found myself holding my breath at times just sitting on the bleachers! I can’t imagine what it’s like to be in the saddle.”

“You’re right on both accounts. It is terrifying and exhilarating," Sokka said honestly. Zuko's eyes widened at the confirmation, but provided no further comment. Sokka mourned the loss of Zuko's voice, quiet and raspy, devoid of the Southern accent typical to that region. He took another risk. "Can I buy you a drink?"

“You were the big winner tonight right? I think _I_ should be the one buying _you_ a drink.”

“Oh no, doesn't work like that where I come from,” Sokka countered with a shake of his head.

Zuko laughed, a lovely sound that reached his syrupy eyes. “Okay then, you're buying,” he conceded good-naturedly. 

“Zuko! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” The young woman with auburn hair suddenly appeared, bounding up to them with a familiarity that suggested Sokka and Zuko were her long lost friends. Her nose was pink-tinged from the chill and she had replaced a denim jacket over her dress. 

Zuko’s entire body seemed to start as though waking from a trance, quickly shooting a nervous glance at Sokka to gauge his reaction. “Oh, um…. This is Suki, my—”

“BFF, technically speaking,” Suki interrupted, putting her arm around Zuko’s waist and pulling him closer to her while eyeing Sokka up and down suggestively. The faux protective stance was obviously entirely at Zuko’s expense, none of it serious and all of it teasing. “But I’ll also accept ‘partner in crime’, wingwoman, future Supreme Court Justice, take your pick.”

“Nice to meet you, Suki,” Sokka replied earnestly. “I’m Sokka.” He wasn’t sure what amused him the most: Suki’s startling confidence and in-your-face humor, or the fact that Zuko was blushing so hard he seemed to radiate more heat than the fire pit. Despite the playful banter, Sokka sensed a protective underlayer to her words, in a way that reminded him a lot of Katara. The message was clear: _What are your intentions with Zuko?_

And in reality, it was a valid question. What were Sokka's intentions with Zuko, besides wanting to know every detail there was to know about him? 

Suki nodded appreciatively, then tilted her head up to focus on Zuko. “I hate to interrupt—truly I do—but Mai’s ready to head back. She’s got a wedding shoot early tomorrow.”

“Right. Okay, yeah um—“ 

“We’ll wait for you outside?” Suki offered casually. 

Zuko looked relieved. “I’ll be right there.”

Appeased, Suki released Zuko and re-focused her attention on Sokka again. She raised two fingers up to her forehead, giving Sokka a silly military-style salute and a sly wink. "Later, cowboy."

Sokka grinned in spite of himself. Zuko turned even redder, if that was even possible. 

Sokka returned the salute playfully, tipping his head respectfully toward Suki. "Later, future Supreme Court Justice." 

Once Suki had retired back into the bar, Zuko sighed and ran a hand across his face in exasperation. Sokka resisted the urge to take the hand into two of his own. 

“I guess that drink will have to wait?” Sokka guessed, surprised at the intense flush of disappointment he felt when he spoke the question aloud. It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes that Sokka and Zuko had been standing here by the fire. Katara and Aang probably weren't missing him yet. Time must have slowed because it felt more like entire days. How else was it possible he could feel this wretchedly forlorn at the idea of Zuko leaving?

The only thing keeping Sokka together was the mirrored image of regret on Zuko's own face. “Are you sure you don’t want your hat back?” Zuko asked again, his quiet voice more melancholic. 

“Positive," Sokka promised. "But—maybe I could have your number?”

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” Sokka fished out his phone from his back pocket and unlocked it, then opened a blank entry in his Contacts before passing him the phone.

It took about 15 seconds for Zuko to type out his information. That was enough time for Sokka to notice the crease between his eyebrows that appeared while he focused on the miniscule task. The way his thumbs, careful and full of intention, typed each letter and digit with no mistakes. How his lips pressed together shyly when he saved the entry. When Zuko handed the phone back to Sokka, their fingers touched for a brief milli-second. His skin was almost too warm. 

“Goodnight, Sokka.”

“Goodnight, Zuko.”


End file.
